


Revelations

by JPA



Series: A Match Made in Hell [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Ex-Hunter I guess tbh, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Bromance, Scott is a Good Friend, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:17:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPA/pseuds/JPA
Summary: “Ah, Stiles,” Peter says, eyes gleaming. “It’s so nice to see you again.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let the summary fool you: (spoiler?) there is barely any Stiles/Peter interaction in this chapter.
> 
> OK. SO. I'm not TRYING to torture you all by making you wait, but I wanted to have more build up. I want this story to make sense, okay? This one will have two or three chapters to it. I'm really tired, my creativity is stunted. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this! As always, unbeta'd !

Stiles avoided leaving his house for three weeks before he got cabin fever. He’d been pretty stocked up on groceries before transforming himself into a hermit, but three weeks was kind of pushing it.

Leaving the house was something he had been both reluctant to do and excited for. He was reluctant because he had the very rational fear of running into his douchebag of a soulmate. Greasy food, of course, was the reason for his excitement. He really hoped the diner in town still had those curly fries he’d loved when he was younger.

Alas, it didn’t matter if he wanted to get out of the house or not—his fridge was nearly empty, and he couldn’t live off of chips and salsa for the rest of his life.

Out the door he goes, the earlier hours of the morning making his feet drag across the gravel of his driveway. He yawns all the way to the store, cursing his body’s needs.

To Stiles discontent, he’s not even the store for five minutes when his quiet morning is rudely interrupted by an over-enthusiastic voice.

“Hey!” a voice calls from Stiles’ left.

Stiles tenses, panicking. It was barely six in the morning and someone he knew was here, too? No. That was ridiculous. Nobody knew him here, how would—

“Hey, Stiles!” the voice booms, making Stiles’ head throb.

Closing his eyes, Stiles suppresses an irritated groan and spins around to look at whoever was calling after him. Why did these things happen to Stiles?

A bright face appears in Stiles’ line of vision. The voice, it seems, belongs to the man now standing in front of Stiles. The man, probably around the same age as Stiles, has a blinding smile plastered on his face. Stiles is convinced that stupid smile is what’s lighting up the store.

“Hey,” the voice says, _again._

“Yes, you’ve already said that,” Stiles grouches. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The blinding smile slips off the man’s face and Stiles almost regrets being rude.

“Ah,” the man says, now awkward, “I’m Scott!”

Scott. Hmm. Why did that sound so familiar? Why did the name set off warning bells in Stiles’ head? It was a common name, Stiles decides. It was likely that he’s bumped into many Scotts throughout his lifetime. He was just being paranoid.

“Hello, Scott,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath. “Can I help you with anything? Do I know you?”

“Actually,” Scott starts, scratching the back of his head, “I’m a part of the local pack.”

“The one that kidnapped me, right,” Stiles says, starting to turn away. “Yeah, bye.”

“Wait!” Scott practically whines. “I wanted to apologize! I know Allison already talked to you, but I’m actually… I’m the one who knocked you out and brought you to the pack house.”

Stiles stares at Scott, face blank, “If I accept your apology, will you leave me alone?”

“If that’s what you want. I just,” Scott fumbles with the basket he’s holding, “I just wanted you to know that that’s not how we usually do things. I panicked that day. We’ve had a lot of problems, with hunters. We haven’t had many good experiences with them, with Allison and her dad as the exception.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off the explanation. “I get it. The tension between hunters and your kind is high.”

“Can I give you my number?” Scott asks, shifting from foot to foot. “Someday I’ll bring you leftovers from dinner. My girlfriend, Kira, always makes too much.”

“That’s not necessary,” Stiles tries to decline, frowning.

“Please,” Scott begs. “Let me, as an apology.”

“Fine.”

* * *

 

For the next few weeks, Stiles couldn’t get away from Scott no matter how hard he tried. He’d be more worried if it weren’t for the fact that Scott was the epitome of innocence and self-righteousness.

The werewolf constantly stopped by Stiles’ house, bringing food, books, and even some games. Stiles didn’t really mind it, but it was strange to him that Scott would want to interact with him.

One day, Stiles questions it.

“Why are you always coming around?” he asks, standing on his porch.

Scott had just arrived, a take-out box of curly fries in his hands and a stupidly happy look on his face. He had texted Stiles that he was coming over, but that was only about five minutes before he’d arrived. Stiles usually had no time to prepare for his frequent guest, because Scott tended to give a half-assed warning before popping up.

“Do you not want me to?” Scott asks, frowning in confusing.

“I didn’t say that,” Stiles grumbles, crossing his arms. “I was just wondering. I used to be a hunter, you’re a werewolf. You barely know me. I don’t get it.”

“I’m trying to get to know you,” Scott answers enthusiastically. “Allison said that you and your brother followed the code, so I know you’re not bad.”

“How do you know Allison?” Stiles asks. The topic had never really came up and now he was curious.

“We dated in high school.”

“Dude, seriously?”

Scott laughs, “I know, right? A werewolf dating a hunter? It was wild. Laura wasn’t really happy about it, either, especially with what’s happened in the past.”

“Now you’re dating that Kira girl, though, right? I think you said something about her when you saw me at the grocery store,” Stiles says, now leading Scott into the house.

Scott sits on the couch, setting the curly fries on the coffee table, “Yeah, my relationship with Allison didn’t work out.”

“She found her soulmate, didn’t she?” Stiles asks, not really caring if it was a little intrusive of him to ask. Scott had been pretty intrusive since Stiles had met him, it was only fair.

“Ah,” Scott sighs, “yeah. We don’t really talk about him, though.”

“I’m guessing he’s…” Stiles trails off.

“Dead, yeah.”

 _Poor Allison,_ Stiles thinks, _At least my soulmate is just an asshole._

Losing a soulmate was, according to Stiles’ father, the worst pain anyone could feel. Claudia Stilinski had been killed by a feral werewolf when Stiles was in his early teens. His father had died not long after, too consumed in his grief to do his job properly.

“What about you?” Scott asks, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Stiles asks, not understanding the question.

“Have you found your soulmate?” Scott asks, tilting his head. “I don’t have a soulmate, or that’s what I assume, since I wasn’t born with a soulmark. Kira has one, but she doesn’t really talk about it.”

“I don’t really talk about it, either,” Stiles responds, tense.

“Why not?” Scott asks, oblivious.

Stiles huffs, “I found him, but I haven’t spoken to him. I don’t know what to say, if I’m being honest. His words to me weren’t the kindest, but that doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. It was a complicated situation—a misunderstanding. I can’t really hold it against him, not anymore.”

“Why not just say the first thing that pops up in your head?”

Stiles barks out an ugly laugh, “I don’t want his soulmark to be as intense as mine. I’m sure it will be, but I don’t want his to be as,” Stiles thinks for a moment, “intense.”

“Dude,” Scott says, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I’m sure that whatever you say, or do, you two will work it out. Nobody is perfect. Communication is one of the most important aspects of a relationship, which is probably why people have soulmarks in the first place. If you two talk, you’ll be able to figure it out.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, making sure to take a good look at Scott for a long moment. The werewolf’s eyes are earnest, his face more intense than Stiles had ever seen it.

It is during that long, quiet moment, that Stiles realizes he is not alone in his struggles.

* * *

Stiles doesn’t know how Scott convinces him to go to the pack house for dinner, but he does. It’s not a big deal, Scott had told him. The pack knew that Scott had been communicating with Stiles since the first time Scott had showed up at Stiles house.

Stiles doesn’t bring anything to the dinner, not caring if it was rude of him or not. He knew how to cook but was reluctant to get out of bed to make anything. Most of his time was spent in bed, curled up in the covers his brother had given him for their birthday the year before.

The pack alpha was out of town, thank God. Scott had needed to get her permission to ask Stiles over, of course, but she’d given it, most likely because of guilt.

When Stiles arrive, Scott’s outside of the house, standing with Allison and a gorgeous girl with strawberry-blonde hair.

“Stiles!” Scott calls out to Stiles when Stiles gets out of the car. “I almost didn’t think you were going to show up.”

“Me, too,” Stiles says, eying the girl standing next to Allison. “And who might this lovely lady be?”

“Taken,” the girl deadpans, eyes narrowing.

“You wound me,” Stiles chuckles. “I was simply asking for a name.”

“Mm,” the girl hums, flipping her hair behind her shoulder with her hand.

Allison rolls her eyes, “Stiles, this is Lydia Martin. I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Stiles replies, winking at Lydia.

“Dude, you have a soulmate,” Scott harrumphs, hitting Stiles in the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go inside. Erica and Boyd couldn’t make it, but everyone else is here. Well, except Peter. He’s on a business trip.”

“Business trip?” Stiles asks, glad he was in the clear for today. He follows Scott into the house, looking back to where Allison and Lydia stood. They stay outside, making no attempt at entering the house, Lydia murmuring something into Allison’s ear.

Scott doesn’t have the chance to answer, their conversation interrupted by someone calling from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Dinner goes by fast, all of them surrounding a long table in the dining room. Stiles is introduced to everyone in the room. A handful of them are younger than him, but the rest are either older or pretty close to his age. It’s awkward, at first, but Scott easily ends up getting a conversation going.

Stiles stays quiet through most of the meal, watching everyone interact with each other as he eats the food put on his plate. It isn’t until Lydia brings up a man named Deaton and a debate she’s been having with him that Stiles jumps into the conversation.

After dinner, everyone heads to the living room. Stiles is conned into staying for a little bit longer, completely enraptured by the idea of finishing the debate on magical properties with Lydia.

He doesn’t realize an hour or two has passed until Peter steps into the living room, eyes flickering over the room until they land on Stiles.

“Ah, Stiles,” Peter says, eyes gleaming. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

The people still in the living room stop talking, everyone either turning to see Stiles’ reaction or awkwardly shifting their eyes to look somewhere else.

Stiles just snorts, rolling his eyes. He keeps his body turned towards Lydia, silently praying Peter would just leave him alone for now. So much for being in the clear.

The rest of the time spent at the pack house is uneventful—Lydia leaves, so Stiles ends up talking with Scott and Allison while also ignoring everything Peter says. He doesn’t think he’s being obvious; his first meeting with Peter had been less than amicable, so it wasn’t odd for him to be a little snobby towards the older man.

When Stiles starts to leave, halfway out the door, he can’t help but look back to where the werewolf is standing. To Stiles’ dismay, Peter had been watching him, and their eyes meet for a brief moment before Stiles turns and walks out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Just one more chapter left (maybe?). We'll just have to see where my writing takes me. There isn't really a solid plan for how this is going to end yet. As usual, unbeta'd! Sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> I'm sorry if I don't reply to comments well! I really appreciate the comments and kudos, I don't want ya'll to think I'm ungrateful! 
> 
> Hope you like this chapter! :)

Not interacting with Peter was both the best and worst thing Stiles had ever decided to do. It was the best because Stiles didn’t have to deal with the stress of working things out. It was the worst because Stiles constantly wondered what would happen if he tried to work things out with his soulmate.

It was whatever. Stiles would deal with the soulmate situation when he was more emotionally stable. Stiles figured it would be months from the present.

Scott, blissfully unaware of Stiles’ dilemma, seemed to have other plans.

It’s Saturday night, and Scott has the next few days off of work. To celebrate, or just because, Scott is spending the night at Stiles’ house. It made Stiles feel like he was in high school again. That didn’t really make sense, though, since Stiles hadn’t had any friends in high school, besides his brother. Stiles doubted that counted.

They’re in Stiles’ room, lounging while eating pizza Stiles’ had ordered earlier that night. They’re not talking, both distracted by different things. Stiles is on his laptop while Scott is on his back, basking in the feeling of a full stomach.

Suddenly, Scott rolls onto his side to look at Stiles. Stiles barely pays any attention to him, too busy scrolling through his notifications.

“What is it?” Stiles inquires absentmindedly. “Do I have something on my face?”

Scott shakes his head, his eyebrows drawn down in thought. He sits up, crossing his legs and starts to tap his hands against his legs.

Stiles closes his laptop, leaning back against his bed and raising an eyebrow. He waits, knowing Scott will say what he wants to say eventually.

“I was just thinking,” Scott starts, “I know you two got off on the wrong foot, and, I mean, I am so not a big fan of Peter either—”

Stiles cuts Scott off before the werewolf can go any further, “Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up, dude,” Stiles huffs. “You’re killing my vibe.”

“He’s not that bad,” Scott says, looking at Stiles with puppy dog eyes.

Sighing, Stiles leans back in his chair, “What’s this about?”

“What do you mean?” Scott says, obviously trying to look as innocent as possible.

“Why are you trying to make me like Peter?”

“I’m not!” Scott whines, defensive.

“You are so, so bad at lying, Scotty,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

“Dude! I’m seriously not, I just,” Scott pauses, “Allison said that both you and Peter are really smart, so it would make sense if you two got together for research. You’ve helped us with the past few situations, and she said it would be even better if you teamed up with Peter.”

Stiles stares at Scott, mouth agape. Was Scott serious? They wanted him to team up with Peter for research? That was the most ridiculous idea Stiles had ever heard.

“I know you don’t like him, but it could make things go quicker. We’d be able to find out the information we need in less time than we usually do. It would be great.”

On the other hand, Stiles wouldn’t mind being around his soulmate. Alone, though? No way. That was not something Stiles would be willing to do. If they were alone, Stiles would have to speak to Peter. If someone was there with them, like Scott, he could just ignore Peter and direct everything he wants to say to Scott.

“You don’t have to, though! There’s totally no pressure. I understand if—”

“I’ll do it, on one condition.”

Now Scott is the one with the open mouth, shocked by Stiles’ sudden interruption, “You’ll do it?”

“Yes, Scott, on one condition,” Stiles repeats.

“Anything, dude.”

“Either you or Lydia has to be there with us.”

Scott groans, “Dude, are you just doing this so that you can spend more time with Lydia? She has a soulmate, and so do you!”

“Don’t be dramatic, Scott,” Stiles murmurs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t mess with a soulmate pair, but I actually do like Lydia’s company. She’s smart.”

“She’s tough enough to kick your ass, too,” Scott chuckles.

“Oh, I know,” Stiles acknowledges. “She took you down in less than five seconds.”

“She did not!”

Stiles cackles, dodging the pillow Scott throws at him.

* * *

 

Days later, Stiles wonders what he’d been thinking when he’d agreed to this.

He’s sitting in the driveway of the pack house, waiting for Scott and Kira to arrive. Stiles hadn’t talked much with Kira, so he was hoping that this would be his chance to get to know her better.

Yes. That would be his excuse for not talking to Peter.

He’d be too caught up with researching and getting to know Kira that he wouldn’t have time to pay Peter any attention. It was perfect.

Scott and Kira show up only a few minutes after Stiles does, hauling themselves out of their car. Stiles is pleasantly surprised when Kira then opens the backseat of the car and, after a couple seconds, lifts a toddler out of the car.

“This isn’t your kid, is it?” Stiles asks, eyebrows raised. “I feel like you would have told me if you’d had a kid.”

Scott laughs, “Of course I would have. Kira babysits.”

“This is Harvey,” Kira says, the toddler propped on her hip. “He’s going to be joining us today. His mom had a last-minute business trip and asked if I could watch him. You don’t mind, do you?”

Stiles waves his hand in the air, “Of course I don’t. I’m a sucker for little kids.”

Scott chuckles, “Peter is, too, but he tries to pretend he’s not.”

“Dude,” Stiles laughs, “no way.”

“I’m serious,” Scott says, grinning. “He likes to act like he’s heartless, but he really has a soft spot for little kids. It’s kind of funny, actually.”

Stiles starts to respond, but is stopped by the sound of the front door of the house opening. They all look over to see Peter, leaning against the door, narrowed eyes scanning over them.

“Are you going to come in, or are you going to blab in the driveway for another hour?” Peter asks, his voice giving away his amusement.

Scott sputters, “We just got here, Peter.”

“I do hate it when you state the obvious,” Peter replies, standing up straight, turning, and then going back into the house. Scott glares after him, frowning.

“Come on, Scott,” Stiles says, hiding a smile, “Let’s go inside before Peter has a fit.”

They all enter the house. Stiles is feeling more relaxed than he had when he’d first gotten to the house, his anxiety going down by focusing on Scott.

It’s fairly easy to ignore Peter, at first. The werewolf sits in a chair across the room from where Stiles sits, making it a simple task to not talk to him.

Stiles writes down all of the information he finds and talks to Scott while doing. When Peter makes some sort of comment, usually something rude or arrogant, Stiles tenses, but just plays it off as him being annoyed by everything Peter says.

All in all, it goes smoothly—or as smoothly as it can. There are a few awkward silences and moments where Stiles doesn’t contribute to a conversation in fear he’ll accidentally direct it at Peter. Other than that, the night is a success.

* * *

 

The rest of the research nights goes the same way as the first, except Lydia is usually there instead of Scott and Kira. Stiles ignores Peter’s presence and everything the man says, only directing his questions to whoever else is there with them.

Some nights, when things are tense because of a quickly approaching threat, Stiles passes out on the couch. On those nights, Lydia usually puts a cover on him and leaves, and Peter quietly disappears into his room.

Thankfully, Stiles wakes up early enough to avoid encountering the older man in the morning.

* * *

 

Everything had been going so well; Stiles had been able to avoid speaking to Peter, and Peter hadn’t bothered Stiles too much.

Things were fine.

It was only natural that Peter would go and screw things up. Stiles should have been expecting it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been.  

* * *

 

“You don’t seem the type to hold a grudge, dear Stiles,” Peter says one night, completely out of nowhere.

Stiles glowers, glaring at Peter. He tilts his head up, a move that made it seem like he wasn’t interested in having this conversation. He wasn’t, really. He was more interested in getting the research done and then leaving.

Scott had gone to the bathroom, the traitor. Couldn’t he wait to relive his bladder? Didn’t he know Stiles would rather revert to his former, hermit-like self than communicate with Peter?

Peter watches Stiles with calculating eyes, “I’m intrigued. I would smell it if you hated me, or were angry, but you’re not.”

Stiles sits stiffly, jaw clenching. Just what was Peter getting at?

“It’s very,” Peter smirks, “curious. When I enter a room, you become anxious.”

Stiles ignores him, turning his focus on the book in front of him. He tries to focus, at least. It’s kind of hard when his soulmate won’t leave him alone.

“Are you, perhaps, scared of me,” Peter leers, voice full of mischief, “or is it something else?”

With a sharp intake of breath, Stiles hurriedly stands. In the process, he knocks off some of the papers that were on the table in front of him, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t dare look at Peter, or grab any of his belongings, darting out of the room without a second thought.

Did Peter know? That was impossible. Stiles mark was covered, and he had never spoken to him.

Before Stiles even realizes it, he’s outside of the house and opening the door to his worn-down Jeep. He gets in, starting it up and pulling out of the driveway slowly. He refuses to look back to the house, afraid that he’ll see Peter standing in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you like about this chapter? What didn't you like? Tell me! Feedback is important to me! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh? A flashback? What is this? Read and find out! 
> 
> Turns out, this won't be the last chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Sorry if having it mostly in all italics is annoying! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, sorry if there are any mistakes! I tried to get this out as fast as possible- I've been really busy lately!!! I use too many exclamation marks!!!!!

There was this funny thing about finding your soulmate:  it was always by accident.

No one knew who their soulmate was, it was a fact of life. You didn’t go up to someone and talk to them knowing they were your soulmate. You didn’t look at someone and think, _They’re definitely the one._

The idea of soulmates was revolved around hope. You might hope someone was your soulmate, and try to talk to them because of it, but there was barely a sliver of a chance that they were it. There was nothing one could do to find their soulmate before speaking to them, no way to know what you would say or do when you first met them.

Needless to say, if you were always in bad moods, you were doomed to a rough start. If you had a habit of saying rude things to strangers, you were doomed to a rough start.

If you were, say, a werewolf who was known for treating hunters like mud on the bottom of your shoe, well, the future didn’t look very promising.

Peter had guessed he’d say something semi-rude to his soulmate. He wasn’t perfect. Despite his demeanor, he was tense most of the time. He wasn’t an overly nice person. Peter was what most people would call an asshole.

Peter, in the words of Lydia Martin, had fucked up, royally.

* * *

 

_“Stiles fell asleep again,” Lydia huffs, climbing off the couch and stretching. Her strawberry-blond hair, as Stiles would call it, spills down from the bun it had been in, landing in a mess of curls and occasional knots._

_They had been researching for hours upon hours, trying to find the name and weakness of the latest mystery monster that was terrorizing Beacon Hills. They’d spent half the day, at least, going through books and scrolling useless webpages. None of them had eaten anything, but that didn’t come as a surprise._

_“I’m leaving,” Lydia tells Peter, voice cracking, “I told Parrish I’d be home by midnight.”_

_“And when did you start keeping promises?” Peter tuts, absentmindedly. He was looking at some irrelevant paper, long since given up on finding what the other two had been looking for._

_“Who said anything about promises?” Lydia asks, tapping her manicured nails on her notebook. “Anyways, you might as well go to bed. The chances at you finding the information we need is slim to none, especially since you’re not even looking at the right sources.”_

_“Will you put a cover on Stiles for me?” Peter asks, ignoring the girl and flipping a few pages forward._

_Lydia snorts, “No, and I don’t know why you do it. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m the one who’s doing it, but he can freeze on the front porch all night, for all I care. Serves him right.”_

_“He’s tired,” Peter sighs, getting up from his spot to go find a cover for Stiles._

_“So are we,” Lydia harrumphs._

_Peter ignores her, again, knowing that she didn’t understand. It was obvious that Stiles had severe nightmares. The boy was almost always tired. He didn’t owe the pack anything, especially with how his first encounter with them went._

_That was partly Peter’s fault, Peter could admit to that. He wouldn’t apologize, though. He doubts he’ll ever get the chance to, given that Stiles won’t even talk to him._

_Peter grabs a cover from the living room closet, going to Stiles and placing the cover over him, as he’d done before. Stiles grumbles in his sleep, jerking his head to the side._

_“Mmf,” Stiles groans, eyes cracking slightly open. He was half asleep, Peter knew, not conscious enough to know where he even was._

_“Sleep,” Peter shushes. “We’ll research more tomorrow.”_

_Stiles squints, looking up to Peter. He fights the cover until he gets one arm out, and then he slowly stretches it out until his hand is hovering by Peter’s. Peter tenses, unsure of what to do. Their hands don’t touch, only centimeters apart. The warmth of Stiles’ hand radiates against Peter’s, too close for Peter’s comfort._

_“This is a dream,” Stiles grumbles, to himself. Peter relaxes, chuckling at the statement. He starts to shake his head, but Stiles continues, now looking at Peter blurrily, “I wish I’d never met you and your stupid, perfect smile.”_

_Time slows._

_Lydia, still in the room, reacts before Peter does. He barely notices her gasp, the pounding of his heart drowning out most other noises in the house—in the world._

_The whole pack knew what Peter’s soulmark said. He wore it like a trophy, the dark, neat words resting on his chest, right over his heart. He didn’t get shirtless very often, but when he did, he tended to puff out his chest a little in pride._

_Peter’s mind rushes back to awareness when he feels Lydia wrap her hand around his wrist. Without thinking, Peter had started to reach out to touch Stiles. The boy was snoring softly now, face turned away from Peter._

_He wanted to shake the younger man awake and demand Stiles to tell him what the meaning of this was._

_The past few weeks suddenly made a lot more sense. Stiles hadn’t uttered a single word to Peter. Peter had thought it was just because of their first meeting._

_Oh, shit. Their first meeting. Of course._

_Peter yanks his hand away from Lydia, gently brushing his fingers against Stiles’ face. He pulls the cover down, slowly, and scans Stiles’ body. Where was his mark?_

_Careful not to wake the man up, Peter starts to roll up the sleeves of Stiles’ t-shirt. There was nothing on his shoulders. He pulls the collar of Stiles’ shirt next, and a few small, black letters catches his eye._

**_Did I sa_ **

_Determined, Peter pulls the collar down so that he can see the rest of the mark._

**_Did I say you could fucking move, hunter scum?_ **

_The words make Peter cringe. He pulls away, taking a quick step back. He bumps into Lydia, who had moved behind him while he’d been snooping._

_“Stiles is my soulmate.”_

_“You hate it when people point out the obvious, Peter,” Lydia replies, voice tense. “You fucked up,” Lydia pauses, and then adds, “royally.”_

_Peter doesn’t dignify that with a response, fists clenching at his sides._

_“That doesn’t mean you can’t make it right, Peter,” Lydia tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder._

_He’s half tempted to tell her she doesn’t know anything, but then he remembers Parrish’s soulmark. Lydia had been having a terrible day when she’d met her soulmate, and the poor guy had grown up thinking his soulmate thought he was a complete moron, apparently._

_“He won’t talk to me,” Peter says finally. “He won’t even be alone with me in the same room.”_

_“Maybe he doesn’t know what to say,” Lydia says, tightening her hold on his shoulder. She forces him to turn towards her, eyes searching his._

_“I slapped him around,” Peter growls. “When we first met, I called him scum and hurt him. What kind of mate does that?”_

_Lydia frowns, “One that’s trying to protect their pack.”_

_“That doesn’t excuse—”_

_“There was no way for you to know,” Lydia says, angrily. “I didn’t know the guy who spilled coffee on me would be my soulmate. Allison didn’t know the guy who we thought was an enemy would be hers. You didn’t know. The only thing you can do now is talk to him, apologize, and move on.”_

_“How?”_

_Lydia rolls her eyes, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”_

_And with that, the banshee picks up her stuff and leaves without another word. Peter is left alone with his—his_ soulmate.

_He watches Stiles’ for a little while, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good if he woke the man up. After hours of contemplating what he should do, Peter decides to go to bed._

_Peter dreams of first meetings and earthshaking revelations._

* * *

 

From a window of the pack house, Peter quietly watches as Stiles pull out of the driveway. He frowns, mind jumbled with all of the possibilities his approaching confrontation will create. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Was this what you were expecting? Yes? No? Tell me! If there are any mistakes, let a guy know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just going to NOT put how many chapters there are going to be for this fic, because I honestly have no clue. 
> 
> We're so close to the end, though. I'm thinking one or two more chapters? 
> 
> I'm sorry if you think I'm dragging this out too much!! I hope you like this chapter. I was going to post it yesterday, but I had an unexpected visitor (my best friend). 
> 
> Enjoy!

Peter shows up at Stiles’ house two days after Stiles flees the pack house. He doesn’t know what to expect, sure, but it’s definitely not to be ignored at Stiles’ front door.

He knocks and there’s no answer. He really shouldn’t be surprised. He wants to kick himself for thinking Stiles would actually answer the door.

If Peter didn’t have advanced hearing, he wouldn’t know that Stiles was inside. Alas, he can hear the man—can _smell_ him, and it’s more than obvious that Stiles was ignoring Peter’s presence. The car parked in the front of the house was also a dead giveaway, of course.

“Stiles?” Peter calls, knocking on the door for the second time. He doesn’t want to seem desperate, but he doesn’t know what else to do. “I came to drop off some of the books you’d asked Deaton for.”

Peter is met with silence. He shoves down the urge to growl, nose crinkling as he attempts to calm himself.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

“I’ll leave them on the doorstep,” Peter says after a minute or two of silence. He would get no reply, and he didn’t want to push.

Well, he didn’t want to push too hard, at least.

He leaves, albeit very slowly, thinking up different ways he could get Stiles to talk to him. He didn’t really want to force the matter, but what choice did he have?

* * *

 

It’s a Thursday, and Stiles is at the pack house for lunch. Scott wants Stiles to meet Derek, the alpha’s brother, and had invited Stiles over. Not that Stiles needed an invitation to come over, at this point.

Things had been pretty tense. It had been a few days since Stiles had been to the pack house, and Scott was starting to notice Stiles’ reluctance to go there. Not wanting Scott to catch on, though the last person to catch on to any secret was Scott, Stiles had agreed to come.

He’s in the bathroom washing his hands, when there’s a knock at the door. It could be anyone, he thinks, but he doesn’t say anything in fear of accidentally speaking to Peter.

Stiles doesn’t actually expect to see Peter when he opens the door, assuming it’s one of the other pack members waiting to use the restroom. Jokes on him, right?

When Stiles opens up, Peter catches the edge of the door with one hand and blocks his way. His arm is stretched out so that the only free space is taken up. To get through, Stiles would either have to barrel through Peter or knock his arm down.

Stiles stares up at the werewolf, heart racing. Just what was Peter getting at?

“Do you want through, Stiles?” Peter asks, chin tilting down. “Am I blocking your way?”

Stiles gulps, nodding slowly.

Peter’s eyes gleam dangerously, narrowing. He seems to think about something before humming to himself and smirking.

“Ask.”

Stiles' shoulders hunch, eyes looking anywhere but at Peter. He takes a step back, ready to just turn around and drown himself in the toilet. Why was Peter doing this?

“Is it too hard to ask?” Peter questions, smirk vanishing from his face. His eyebrows draw downwards, as if something had suddenly occurred to him.

They stand, in silence. It’s Stiles fault. If he could just—just man up and _say something_ , anything, this would all be over.

“Peter?” a voice, Lydia’s voice, interrupts the silence. Peter growls under his breath, bringing his hand away from the door. He glances at Stiles, examining him before turning and walking down the hallway.

Stiles takes the chance to make his escape, rushing out of the bathroom and into the dining room. He hastily tells Scott and Kira goodbye, saying something about running errands, and rushes out of the house.

When Stiles interacts with Peter, there was a common theme. Peter talks, catches Stiles off-guard, Stiles avoids speaking, and then Stiles promptly leaves the house. Stiles knew it was cowardly—he didn’t care.

-

Meanwhile, Peter stands in front of Lydia, frowning. She frowns right back, face twisted in a judgmental expression. 

“How can I help you, Miss Martin?” Peter states more than asks, voice icy.

“This is how you’re trying to fix things?” Lydia says, angry, “What, do you think scaring him into saying something will help your situation?”

“I’m only trying to interact with him!” Peter growls. “How am I supposed to fix things if he won’t talk to me?”

“That’s on you, not him,” Lydia snips, crossing her arms. “You’re not the one who is stuck with the shitty soulmark, Peter, so stop acting like this is his fault.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t my fault,” Peter snarls, worked up.

“it’s not,” Lydia sighs, “but they’re your words, Peter. Even if you didn’t know, those words are still on his body. He grew up seeing them. You need to be less intense.”

“He’s my soulmate!”

“And you’re his!”

Peter let’s out another growl, wiping his hand across his face wearily. What could he do? How could he fix this? Peter wasn’t good with people. Peter was good at lying to people, manipulating people, intimidating people, but fixing problems with people? Yeah, no. The only way Peter fixed things was to destroy what had broken them in the first place.

Of course, that didn’t actually fix something, but it made sure nothing else was broken.

Destroying himself wouldn’t fix this. The only thing Peter needed to destroy was Stiles’ silence, but that wasn’t something Peter knew how to do.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Lydia asks. She’s leaning against the wall, which was very unlike her, and staring at something on the wall. “You don’t want him to end up like Allison, do you?”

Peter knew something bad had happened to the hunter girl, but he didn’t know the details, “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t know who her soulmate was until he was pretty much dead. Her mark is his last words.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“He’d known about them being soulmates for at least a year, but he’d kept it from her,” Lydia responds, eyes now closed. “If he would’ve just told her what he knew, they could’ve had time together. Things could have been different.”

“Stiles is trying to keep the fact that we’re soulmates from me,” Peter defends, voice flat.

Lydia rolls her eyes, “Yes, Peter, but you’re also keeping something from him. You know that you’re soulmates, and he doesn’t know that you know. One of you have to speak up, and it’s obviously not going to be him.”

Peter contemplates Lydia’s words, sighing. She was right, of course. If things between Peter and Stiles went on this way, there would never be a conclusion to their sad little romance in the making.

“You’re right,” Peter admits.

“Of course I am,” Lydia huffs, standing up straight. “Now, stop wasting my time. You’re not usually this stupid. I’m kind of disappointed.”

Peter _tsk_ s, watching Lydia as she turns and walks out of the hallway and into the dining room. 

* * *

 

It was take two, and Peter wasn’t sure if the odds were in his favor or not. He hadn’t knocked on the door yet, shifting from foot to foot as he stands a few inches away from the doormat.

He walks up to it slowly, looking down at the ugly thing. It was yellow, one of Peter’s least favorite colors, with big letters surrounded by different colored birds. The birds seemed to stare at Peter, daring him to take the last step forward.

Taking his eyes off the wretched mat, he lifts his hand and knocks on the door.

This time when there is no answer, Peter is not surprised. He knocks again, ignoring the put-out feeling he was starting to get. Peter was a Hale. Hale’s never give up.

“Stiles?” Peter calls out, hesitant, “I need to talk to you.”

Again, there’s no answer.

Peter walks closer to the door, as close as he can get without having to stand awkwardly. He puts his hand flat against the wood, closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath and listens.

Stiles is just beyond the door. Peter can smell his anxiety—it was likely that he’d be able to smell it from miles away, with how strong the scent was.

“I have something that I need to speak with you about,” Peter says, lowering his voice. He rests his forehead against the door, eyes still closed. “I know you’re in there, Stiles. Please, open the door.”

The only response Peter gets is a quiet sigh. There’s some sort of shuffling noise from behind the door. For just a moment, Peter almost thinks Stiles has given in, but then he realizes Stiles is starting to walk away.

“I know, Stiles,” Peter murmurs suddenly, hoping that his words will stop Stiles in his tracks.

He feels desperate. He sounds desperate, too, to himself and to the whole world. He doesn’t care, not now. He needs to do this. He needs to be honest with Stiles so that they can work together to fix this.

“I know that you’re my soulmate.”

Still no answer.

“Open the door, Stiles,” a pause, “please.”

He listens for Stiles’ reaction, holding his breath. There’s a muffled gasp, and then Peter hears another choppy gasp, then another, then another. Peter listens more deeply, Stiles’ racing heartbeat catching his attention. He sniffs, and is hit with the putrid smell of extreme anxiety.  

Stiles was having a panic attack.

“Stiles?” Peter says, frantic, knocking on the door. “Stiles! Open the door!”

The door does not open, unfortunately, and Peter is left outside, nearly losing control. He waits, trying to keep himself calm but, eventually, he can’t stop himself from breaking down the door.

He would worry about the broken door later. Now, Peter had Stiles to worry about.

The man in question was on the floor of the front room, arms wrapped around himself. Stiles was trembling, knees pulled up to press against his chest, and he looked too pale.

Peter hadn’t thought that confronting Stiles would get this sort of response, but it was way past the point of no return. Peter would calm Stiles down, take care of him, and then they could talk. Things were never as simple as that, Peter knew, but one could always hope.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Are you excited for the next chapter? What do you think will happen? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT! This is the end of this fic. If I had more time, I would continue on with it. As it is, I have a lot on my plate and don't want to leave ya'll hanging! I had someone do a quick look-over, but she might not have spotted all of the mistakes! Sorry if there's a lot! 
> 
> I hope it's not too fast-paced. I hope you enjoy!

“Breathe with me, Stiles,” Peter commands, slowly moving towards Stiles. He doesn’t want to send Stiles spiraling into a panic even more than he already has, but he needs to get as close as possible. He crouches down, cautiously holding out a hand. “Stiles, look at me. It’s okay.”

Stiles looks like he’s blinking back tears, and Peter frowns. Fuck it.

He closes the gap between him and Stiles, pulling the man to him. He gently guides Stiles’ head down to his chest, taking a deep breath. He’s sure that his heart is beating furiously, and he hopes that the sound of it will help calm Stiles down.

“Come on, Stiles,” Peter mumbles, “Breathe. In… out… in… out… There we go.”

Stiles shudders in Peter’s hold, doing his best to match Peter’s breathing. His hands loosely clutch onto Peter’s shirt, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinks rapidly. Peter doesn’t move—he doesn’t dare, not wanting to spook the other man.

Neither of them speak, too focused on what had just happened to come up with something to say. Peter’s arms are wrapped around Stiles, and Stiles takes deep, shaky breaths.

Finally, after what seems like years, Stiles breaks the silence.

“I think we need to talk,” Stiles croaks out, and Peter can’t help but laugh.

“Yes,” Peter murmurs, “I think so, too.”

“I—”

“But,” Peter hums, “I think that you need to rest, first. You’re exhausted, I can tell. When’s the last time you slept?”

Stiles laughs, bitter, “I can’t remember.” He starts to pull away from Peter as he speaks, but Peter stops him. The air is tense and gloomy, threatening to suffocate the both of them.

Peter wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

In one quick movement, Peter stands, pulling Stiles up with him. Without thinking about it too much, he picks up Stiles bridal style, glancing at the broken-down door before heading deeper into the house. He really would need to fix that.

“What are you doing?” Stiles practically shrieks, though his voice seemed weak. “Peter! Put me down. I am perfectly able to walk.”

“I know,” Peter muses as he walks, “but this is much more satisfying, mm?”

Stiles sputters, holding onto Peter for dear life. “You don’t even know where you’re going!” he points out, glaring up at the werewolf. “What even is your plan? Take me to my bedroom and force me to nap? This is so uncool, dude.”

“You seem to be recovering quickly,” Peter says, ignoring everything Stiles had just said. He’d find the bedroom easily. He just needed to go to the room where Stiles’ scent was the most prominent. “Perhaps, the reason for this quick recovery is because you’re not pointlessly exerting the last of your energy by walking around.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “I’m sure I’d make it.”

Peter only raises an eyebrow, choosing to stay silent. He finally finds Stiles’ bedroom, smoothly opening the door and then, after entering the room, kicking it shut. He walks to the bed and gently sets Stiles down, chuckling at the annoyed huff he gets from Stiles.

“Peter, I—”

“Stiles,” Peter interrupts, shaking his head. “Rest. We can talk later.”

“We can talk now!”

“You haven’t slept in days! You just had a panic attack, simply because I told you I knew we’re soulmates!” Peter growls, leaning over and gathering the covers to pull them over Stiles. He sits on the bed after the covers reach a certain point, looking at Stiles with an intense gaze.

The entire situation was laughable. He was tucking Stiles in less than twenty minutes after he’d kicked Stiles door down to find a panic-riddled Stiles.

“I don’t want to talk to you about it when you’re this vulnerable,” Peter admits. “I don’t want you to feel like you have no power in the conversation. Look at what happened just now! You let me carry you to your room and put you in your bed with little complaint.”

Stiles frowns, but Peter doesn’t scent sorrow or anger on the man. Confusion is obvious in Stiles’ scent and features, along with exhaustion and a little bit of hope. Peter doesn’t think too hard on it, but he can’t help the small flicker of hope that builds up in his own chest.

“Okay,” Stiles says suddenly, “I’ll take a nap, since it’s so important to you.”

Peter huffs out a quiet, “Thank you.” He reaches over and strokes Stiles’ hair, wondering how he’d gotten to this point. It was odd thinking about how quickly things in life played out. If a person hesitated, or even blinked, who knows what they would miss.

There was a long list of people, opportunities, and items Peter had missed in his lifetime. Fortunately for him, he didn’t think living happily with his soulmate would be on that list.

* * *

 

Stiles had fallen asleep faster than expected. Peter stayed by Stiles’ side until deciding that he needed to do something about the broken door and then maybe fix up a light snack for Stiles.

He calls the only person he’ll ever call for help—Lydia—asking if she’ll bring over the supplies he needs. He demands, really, telling her that if she doesn’t bring him what he needs, he’ll tell everyone about the time he had to pick her drunken-self up from some trashy bar a hundred miles out of town.

Lydia, bless her heart, only sighs and does what he says, even though she knows his threat is an empty one.

Trying to quietly fix the door is a pain in the ass, but Peter gets it done. He wonders how long Stiles will sleep.

He almost wished Stiles would sleep for days.

Peter was nervous. He’d never say it out loud, but it was something that he couldn’t stop. He was nervous about how things were going to go, and he was afraid things wouldn’t turn out.

After he gets the door fixed without waking Stiles up, which is some sort of miracle, Peter heads to the kitchen. He’s not surprised to see Stiles’ cupboards are mostly full of junk food and microwavable meals. Sighing, he looks at the time.

Going to buy groceries would take at least thirty minutes. Stiles had been asleep for at least two hours. He wanted to be at the house when Stiles woke up, so going out, even for a little while, wasn’t something Peter was too keen on doing.

In the end, Peter goes. He prays Stiles will stay asleep while Peter is out, not wanting the man to misunderstand the situation.

Do things ever go Peter’s way, though?

It takes Peter approximately twenty-two minutes to get to the store, buy food, and get back to Stiles’ house. Before he even enters the house, he knows Stiles is awake. He can hear the man walking around.

Letting himself in, Peter walks back into the kitchen to see Stiles standing at the sink. When Stiles sees him, he blinks slowly.

“I thought it…” Stiles trails off, but then decides to continue what he’d been saying, “I thought it was a dream. You were gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes, frowning. He dispenses the bags of food onto the counter and moves closer to Stiles. “I went out to buy groceries. I was going to make you something, but you don't have a lot."

Stiles crosses his arms, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why?” Stiles questions, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you being so nice? We haven’t even talked until today. You barely know me. I don’t even know how you knew we were soulmates.”

Peter frowns at this. Stiles wasn’t exactly wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right, either. Even though Stiles hadn’t spoken to Peter, Peter knew a lot about the ex-hunter.

Stiles used to be a hunter. He used to have a twin brother who had died not too long ago. Stiles was hardheaded, but kind, and sometimes he put his friends’ happiness above his own. Stiles was 19 years younger than Peter, yet he was more mature than anyone Peter had ever known. Peter knew all of these things about Stiles, and more. It hadn’t occurred to him that Stiles would think of him as almost a stranger.

“You talk in your sleep,” Peter says slowly. “I was putting some blankets on you, and you woke up. Well, you kind of woke up. You thought you were dreaming. Do you always think you’re dreaming?”

Stiles snorts, “Life is but a dream, as they say.” He walks around the table and plopping down on one of the chairs, letting out a breath and burying his hands in his hair. “I should have been more careful.”

“What’s done is done,” Peter mumbles briskly. “I know that we’re soulmates, and you know that I know. Now, we have figure out what we want to do.”

“What we want to do?” Stiles repeats.

“About us.”

“We didn’t exactly start on the right foot, Peter.”

“I know I messed up. We didn’t have the best start and it’s my fault. I regret what happened, I’m sorry for it, but I can’t change it. I can’t change the past—our past,” Peter says, moving in Stiles direction. Stiles is still sitting, looking at Peter wearily. When Peter gets close, he looks down at Stiles with an open expression, something so unlike Peter, and tries to show all of the emotions he’s feeling. “I can ask you to forgive me, though. I can do right by you. I can take you out to dinner, court you, and show you that I never want to see you in pain.”

Stiles is blushing slightly, staring into Peter’s eyes, “Why don’t you, then?”

“Why don’t I what?” Peter questions, leaning even closer.

“Ask me for forgiveness, do right by me, take me out to dinner, etcetera, etcetera,” Stiles whispers, gulping. “Or are you all talk?”

“Will you forgive me, Stiles?” Peter asks, placing his right hand on the man’s shoulder. He didn’t want to be too forward, but it was nice being able to be this close to his soulmate.

“You’ll have to work hard,” Stiles harrumphs, sniffing, “especially if you’re going to do right by me, too.”

“Of course,” Peter chuffs. “Maybe I can start by taking you out to eat, tonight?”

“I would love that,” Stiles murmurs, smiling kindly. He reaches up and touches Peter’s cheek with the back of his hand, eyes sparking with future promises. Peter’s eyes spark right back, and, for the first time in a long while, he knows everything will turn out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, tell me how you feel about what I've written!

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll Steter lovin' hoes should add me on Twitter - https://twitter.com/jpap_central
> 
> I would love to take requests and get to know more people! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) !


End file.
